


Stupid

by lorielen (culuyetille)



Series: Hwoarang/Jin ficlets [1]
Category: Tekken (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-08
Updated: 2005-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:07:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28874322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/culuyetille/pseuds/lorielen
Summary: Set in mine and DeadPandaPen's RP universe. Mostly, Jin and Hwoarang had overcome rivalry and are sharing an apartment, still mere room-mates, between Tekken 4 and 5. Hwoarang has kindly expanded on his crisis during the writing ;]
Relationships: Hwoarang/Kazama Jin (Tekken)
Series: Hwoarang/Jin ficlets [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1913989





	Stupid

‘Twas stupid, he knew.  
...no, not really. It was so goddamn immeasurably imbecilic that he didn’t think he could find words to define the sheer brainlessness of it. How long would it last, maybe three weeks? Their time together didn’t amount to a month. Nor did he think it qualified as ‘time together’; it was more of a truce, really. Yeah.  
  
Anyway, Kazama had managed to spoil him. The bastard. Made him a fucking softie – it wasn’t enough to be a poofter, no; he had to become a remarkably _sappy_ one who couldn’t deal with parting. Whoever had named him Flowering Manhood must have had the gift of foretelling with a wicked edge to it. Damn. The pair of them was supposed to be Arch Rivals, but Hwoarang had learned that, much to his dismay, it had been pretty much one-sided and Jin seemed to have bigger fish to fry. He’d been fairly revolted at the very notion of Jin having lots of more threatening things in his existence, other than himself and his thirst for vengeance. In order to clarify that, and many an other issue, they had resorted to talking. Discussing the fucking relationship, both concepts – discussion and relationship – utterly foreign to Hwoarang weeks prior. Discuss it they had, and more than that, it actually bothered him more than a little that Jin had decided not to make an appearance at the Fifth Iron Fist Tournament, what with his grandfather of Doom wanting his head on a plate and all the occasional people after his blood. They had reached the sensible conclusion that Hwoarang better go alone.  
  
Hwoarang had a hard time being sensible, and the complete wreck of his world that was having Jin Kazama as a friendly part of it didn’t help his case any.  
  
Hwoarang sighed and ran a hand through his unruly russet hair, inwardly cursing every droplet of blood on Jin Kazama’s veins. He cast his backpack an examining look, then proceeded to inspect his bathroom. He was such a messy slob, or so Kazama kept telling him. He groaned when in exasperation when the other man’s predictions were confirmed, he had damn near left his favourite training sweatpants behind. He shrugged, he’d been through too fucking much to get his backpack zipped up. Jin could keep the sweatpants, the colour did suit him better anyway. He pulled the backpack over one shoulder. It was one of the few good mementos of his time with the army – that, and his haircut. He fancied his camouflaged backpack was quite stylish. Ha. Sergeant Hwoarang, who’d have guessed.  
  
He couldn’t diverge anymore as he found himself standing next to the closed door of Jin’s bedroom. Drawing one long intake of air, he knocked.  
  
“It’s open.”  
  
Hwoarang inwardly kicked himself for hesitating, and tried to pull off a casual expression as he pushed the door open. Jin totally ruined his efforts: a look of the purest surprise was etched to the Korean’s features as he regarded the scene before him. Shirts piled on the left side, shoes wrapped in plastic bags, pullovers and trousers neatly folded at the bottom.  
  
“What the fuck..?”  
  
Jin didn’t really look at him, probably too busy stuffing socks and underwear in a separate cloth bag to go inside the suitcase. Neat freak.  
  
“The bus leaves at 11:30, right? That’s an hour and a half, and we still have to buy food for the trip.”  
  
Hwoarang was pretty sure his eyes would fall off their sockets, being this wide. His jaw and tongue were apparently not functioning, either. Everything pointed towards brain-death and the wit resources were bellow zero; it was all he could do to state the blatantly obvious and yet, quite unbelievable facts.  
  
“You’re coming along?”  
  
The other man turned around, his face serious.  
  
“Unless you’d rather I didn’t, I thought that I... could.”  
  
Hwoarang then resumed being dumbfounded and proceeded to be his usual impulsive self, effectively shutting Jin up before he could get started on self-deprecaton. He accomplished that by loading his friend with an armful of very delighted Blood Talon. His weight and enthusiasm nearly knocked Jin to the floor, no small task, and when the Japanese’s balance faltered, Hwoarang found an edge of teasing infiltrating in his foolish, huge grin.  
  


-*-


End file.
